Carnage
by theundermole
Summary: They thought they could prevent it. They thought they could kill the Gnolls. They thought they could save the gods, save themselves, save everything. They were wrong. T because of combat sequences, some blood, gore, and swearing, and because I say so. Temporarily suspended because life happened.
1. Prologue

Carnage. The word is synonym with my peoples. Gnolls. Half feral, semi-intelligent, barely better than but in so many ways worse than the hyenas we breed for hunting and for war. Evil. That is our label, the label for my people, the label for me, given by the "goodly" races of Kagolhaas. To them, we are a scourge on the land that must be eradicated to the fullest extent. Hunted. Imprisoned. Slaughtered. And so far, they are exceeding. Not without losses, for we are a worthy opponent for anyone, and deal much damage to our enemies. Even so, where we once numbered in uncountable figures, one for every hundred still stands. Dozens of tribes and clans are no more than memories and stains upon the ground the survivors still walk. The leaders of the "goodly" races say we are evil, living embodiments of carnage and chaos, and must be hunted down accordingly. And so we are killed. Without mercy. Without quarter. Without reason. Until we are all gone, until we are just legends and myth, creatures in the night used to frighten small children into behaving. In a way, they are correct. My people are blight on the land; I'll be the first to admit; and we deal nothing but pain to most that we meet. Most of the great tribes did not accept the treaty placed down almost three hundred years ago, that which many others agreed to. But in another way, they are wrong. No one, now matter how "good" they are, should decide whether any one race should live or die and still be "good". Once they make that decision, the decision to kill all of us, they become just as evil as us. And you know what? I'm gad. Glad that noble leaders have descended to our level, became just as evil as us. Because now we have a chance to fight; to fight back. And win; win against those bastards that wish to silence us. Those monsters. This may be the only coherent recording of our struggle for survival, but our legend will live on for ever, passed from ear to ear, from father to son, told around fireside, as long as there is someone to remember, someone left to tell the tale of war and hope and survival. This is the legend of my people. This is my legend.

Taggerung Wolf, 3rd Thraximundar

Wolfskaag Mountain Gnoll Tribe, the Shadowfangs


	2. Chapter 2: The Prophecy

On the eve of rising shadows, he will be born. A disciple of the ancient devils, and a descendent of Yeenoghu the Butcher, he will grow to challenge the gods. He will confront those that tread the path of light, and he will destroy them. The divine sparks that leave their destroyed bodies and he will consume them, growing stronger with each kill. The gods and their portfolios of servants, both celestial and mortal, will grow weak and eventually wither away. During his journey to destroy the gods, his rampaging wars will be the key to releasing ancient evils from their tethers in the planes. The primordials, the ancient enemies of the gods, will stir in their slumber in the plane of elements, and awaken to resume their long forgotten war against the gods. His wars will shatter the planes, and he will rule over the survivors, casting a shroud of despair and death upon the lands.

The god-slayer, the chain-breaker, the king-mauler, he shall become a hunted animal, hounded by bestial forces hungering for his death. His hunters shall be killed, and he shall consume their powers, gaining strength and power for every death. He shall kill and consume until the lands are empty of all willing opposition.

During his rise to power, he will muster the armies of mortal darkness, gather powerful magicks to his command, and obtain legendary weapons that have the power to kill even the gods themselves. His armies will count more than leaves in all the trees of the mortal plane, and will lay siege to the great bastions of light of the land.

While his armies lay waste to the lands, he will embark on a journey, traveling to the dark places, to the prisons created by the gods themselves, and gather divine and celestial evils to his banner. The primordials shall awaken and shake off their chains and once again seek to destroy all that they set their eyes upon.

The god-slayer shall meet them on the field of battle and defeat them, bending them to his will. Gathering all his armies, he will attack the gods themselves. The gods; dysfunctional and prone to infighting, will attempt to band together eventually, but their differences will lead to their combined downfall. Few will survive the initial onslaught, and those that do not will suffer, and their patron races will suffer, withering away in power and numbers.

As the gods of light cower in their domain bastions, the armies of darkness marching ever nearer, a champion of the dead gods Io will emerge from the shadows and challenge the shatterer of the planes. The champion of the dead dragon god will embody all the traits; both good and evil; of Io, and will bear the ancient artifacts of war the god once carried. The dragon champion will meet and defeat the god-slayer's warriors. He will defeat them. He will face his immortal generals in combat. He will defeat them. The god-slayer will send the gods sworn to his banner into battle. The dragon champion will defeat them. The god-slayer will send the primordials, the abominations, all the dark creatures under his command. He will defeat them. Finally, he will confront the god-slayer, bridling with the power and strength of the fallen divine, the fallen immortals. Their clash will shatter the remnants of the wounded planes, the victor deciding the fate of all planes of existence.


End file.
